I could tell you that the reason I haven’t blogged, or recorded in anyway, the story of how Z3 came into the world is because I’ve been super busy with a new baby, two school aged kids, a pretend job, and a husband who is deploying very soon. These are all the excuses I could give, but not a single one of them is the truth.
The reality is, I don’t like to think about it.
I could get all dramatic with you, and tell you that I almost died, and that we had no idea if Zander would live or this or that or other stuff. That stuff is all true, but in the context of the entire story, the events are not as doom and gloom as that makes it sound.
Truthfully, it was a very scary experience, but the reason I don’t like to think about it is because I handled it much better externally than I did internally, and I’m still coming to grips with the entire situation. I’ll consider the next three posts therapy, because bringing myself to talk about it is truly stepping slightly out of my comfort zone. I’d like to keep pretending I’m a very go with the flow, laid back kind of girl.
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At my 28 week appointment, I was completely forgotten about while I was in the waiting room. For the first time ever, my hour wait for an appointment wasn’t solely the fault of the people sitting at the reception desk. (There was a time in Colorado where I had to sit for a million years because no one could say my name, but that’s a different story.) The computer system was crashing all over the hospital, and not just in the OB clinic, so when I was checked in, instead of putting my name on the list, it reset back to the input screen. I was the fourth person in that particular clinic that it happened to that day.
As I walked back to the exam room, I was stopped by one of the nurses who felt it her duty to double check with me that I was in need of the Rhogam shot. Now, I absolutely knew that it was the day they would be jabbing a needle into my pre-butt in an effort to deal with the fact that I am Rh negative and my husband is Rh positive. The issue with her asking about it, is that I had put the thought of needles out of my mind. I was basically in denial about it, due to an extremely dumb fear of needles. I actually felt my blood pressure rise just thinking about it.
The very first thing that happened in the exam room? The nurse took my blood pressure. It was 161/102. Apparently, this is a bad thing. When the doctor came in, she freaked out a little. At my last appointment I had asked about some swelling in my legs, but that was attributed to the freakish amount of weight I was gaining. I told her about my fear of needles, and since I felt fine, I recommended taking it again at the end of the appointment when I had a chance to chill out for a few.
Before the original nurse came back, the nurse with the stupid needle came in and gave me my shot. And my blood pressure reading stayed exactly the same.
I was sent immediately to Labor and Delivery, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I was hooked up to the monitors for three hours, and was sent home with two bright orange jugs to collect pee for 24 hours. This was the first time preeclampsia was mentioned.
It was also the first, and definitely not last, time that I had told Paul my appointment shouldn’t take more than an hour and then spent 4 hours at the hospital. The day I dropped off my pee jugs, I was hooked up for another NST, but that one only lasted two and a half hours. I was slowly learning that babies who are only 28 weeks gestation have too much swimming space to be cooperative during these tests. All of the lab work came back completely clean, and I was sent on my merry way, with standing appointments to have bi-weekly NSTs from then until I was no longer pregnant.
I assumed that this would be another 12 weeks.
You know what they say about assuming things, right?
Three weeks later, during my 6th NST, I got another “do not pass go” order, and was sent back to Labor and Delivery. It was the first time the words “possible severe preeclampsia” were uttered.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time we would hear that phrase.
The reality is, I don’t like to think about it.
I could get all dramatic with you, and tell you that I almost died, and that we had no idea if Zander would live or this or that or other stuff. That stuff is all true, but in the context of the entire story, the events are not as doom and gloom as that makes it sound.
Truthfully, it was a very scary experience, but the reason I don’t like to think about it is because I handled it much better externally than I did internally, and I’m still coming to grips with the entire situation. I’ll consider the next three posts therapy, because bringing myself to talk about it is truly stepping slightly out of my comfort zone. I’d like to keep pretending I’m a very go with the flow, laid back kind of girl.
******************************************
At my 28 week appointment, I was completely forgotten about while I was in the waiting room. For the first time ever, my hour wait for an appointment wasn’t solely the fault of the people sitting at the reception desk. (There was a time in Colorado where I had to sit for a million years because no one could say my name, but that’s a different story.) The computer system was crashing all over the hospital, and not just in the OB clinic, so when I was checked in, instead of putting my name on the list, it reset back to the input screen. I was the fourth person in that particular clinic that it happened to that day.
As I walked back to the exam room, I was stopped by one of the nurses who felt it her duty to double check with me that I was in need of the Rhogam shot. Now, I absolutely knew that it was the day they would be jabbing a needle into my pre-butt in an effort to deal with the fact that I am Rh negative and my husband is Rh positive. The issue with her asking about it, is that I had put the thought of needles out of my mind. I was basically in denial about it, due to an extremely dumb fear of needles. I actually felt my blood pressure rise just thinking about it.
The very first thing that happened in the exam room? The nurse took my blood pressure. It was 161/102. Apparently, this is a bad thing. When the doctor came in, she freaked out a little. At my last appointment I had asked about some swelling in my legs, but that was attributed to the freakish amount of weight I was gaining. I told her about my fear of needles, and since I felt fine, I recommended taking it again at the end of the appointment when I had a chance to chill out for a few.
Before the original nurse came back, the nurse with the stupid needle came in and gave me my shot. And my blood pressure reading stayed exactly the same.
I was sent immediately to Labor and Delivery, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I was hooked up to the monitors for three hours, and was sent home with two bright orange jugs to collect pee for 24 hours. This was the first time preeclampsia was mentioned.
It was also the first, and definitely not last, time that I had told Paul my appointment shouldn’t take more than an hour and then spent 4 hours at the hospital. The day I dropped off my pee jugs, I was hooked up for another NST, but that one only lasted two and a half hours. I was slowly learning that babies who are only 28 weeks gestation have too much swimming space to be cooperative during these tests. All of the lab work came back completely clean, and I was sent on my merry way, with standing appointments to have bi-weekly NSTs from then until I was no longer pregnant.
I assumed that this would be another 12 weeks.
You know what they say about assuming things, right?
Three weeks later, during my 6th NST, I got another “do not pass go” order, and was sent back to Labor and Delivery. It was the first time the words “possible severe preeclampsia” were uttered.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time we would hear that phrase.
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1 Thoughts on This:
Well, I knew you were busy with your kids, so I haven't bothered you. It's nice to see you writing again. I'll be checking in!
Love youse!
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